


Absolutely Not

by Contra_Indicated



Category: The Strain
Genre: AU, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:31:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2400197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Contra_Indicated/pseuds/Contra_Indicated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern day domestic AU: Thomas makes something for Abraham.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolutely Not

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the characters!

"Done!" Thomas announced triumphantly, startling Abraham, who was himself currently immersed in the world of late 13th century Vienna folklore.

Abraham looked at his boyfriend’s creation with more than just a little skepticism.

A few months ago, Thomas had decided he needed a hobby. Something to focus his mind and creativity on after his pharmaceutical company finally gave his research team’s anitpsychotic drug the green light and shot that happy pill right down the throat of that beautiful junkie, corporately controlled healthcare. Not exactly the most noble work, but Abraham was one to talk. He’d recently agreed to teaching an additional two graduate courses next semester. The fight had been three days ago, and nerves were still frayed around the edges and the mood tense in their apartment.

(you should have at least talked to me, Abe! you’re already teaching four courses, isn’t another two a little excessive)

(you’re calling me excessive? that bolognese took me four hours, Thomas, and you couldn’t even call? no, you were too busy gracing ‘the help’ with your presence because god forbid you not be the center of everyone’s attention now that you’re a ‘celebrity’. have them cook for you next time!)

Abraham looked at the misshapen glob of black yarn Thomas was proudly holding up, waiting for inspection.

"It’s… uh…. it’s a…"

Thomas tilted his head and let out an exasperated sigh.

"it’s a sweater, Abe. I made it. I knit it. For you.” His neck straightened and he ducked his head slightly, adding sheepishly, “What do you think?”

"It’s…," Abraham hesitated, unsure of which direction to take. The garment was an atrocity and an insult to grandmothers everywhere. The sleeves were grossly uneven, the V of the neckline too far to the left, the hemline unintentionally asymmetrical. He felt a smile flit across his lips. "Your talents do not lie in the home arts, Thomas."

Thomas dropped the sweater to his lap.

"Oh, Abe, come on. Try it on!" He stood from his spot on the couch and began his approach.

"No, absolutely not. I can’t even tell where the head hole is on that!" Abraham playfully batted Thomas’s hands away as he raised the sweater to him.

"Absolutely yes!" was the reply, words laced with mischief.

Abraham feigned right, then left, Thomas following his movements with the sweater bunched up in his hands, ready for the ol’ ‘arms up!’ Abe broke to the left, but not before betraying his plan of escape with a furtive glance. Thomas anticipated, and caught him around the waist, wrestling him to the floor. With a triumphant whoop! the sweater was encircling the younger man’s neck, the older man straddling him about the waist.

"Fine, fine, just… get OFF me!" Abraham conceded. He cooperated in inserting his arms into the sleeves and suddenly bucked Thomas off of him and onto the floor. The purely startled look on his face was enough to send Abraham into a fit of giggles.

Thomas gave him a petulant look, dramatically rubbing his right asscheek.

"Laughing… Pretty rich coming from a guy wearing a noodle strainer made out of yarn," he grumbled, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. It was true, an assortment of holes and skipped loops and purls peppered the sweater, letting Abraham’s gray button up peek through.

Abraham rubbed his fingertips along the sleeve of the sweater. The yarn was supple and so so soft. He looked at Thomas, questioning.

"Chenille. It…" A blush spread through Thomas’s cheeks.

Abraham continued feeling the texture of the sweater, softly running his fingers along the uneven loops. He smiled as he raised his gaze to Thomas.

"It’s awful, Thomas." A crooked grin spread across Abraham’s face, crinkling the corners of his eyes and creating a crease between his eyebrows and hinting at where Thomas knew deep laugh lines would someday prominently take up residence.

"I love it."


End file.
